


Pride and Joy.

by TayBartlett9000



Category: British Royalty RPF, Historical RPF, The Crown (TV)
Genre: Conflict, Crown, Family, Favourite, First Person, Friendship, Gen, Historical, Jealousy, Love, Queen - Freeform, Royalty, Sister - Freeform, Sisterly Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 07:37:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TayBartlett9000/pseuds/TayBartlett9000
Summary: Elizabeth's thoughts at the end of season one episode eight of the crown.





	Pride and Joy.

The   flames in the harth before me are burning low as I sit alone in my own bedroom,  trying to sort out the multitude of confusion spinning inside my mind. Margaret and I had parted company hours  before and yet it still feels as if her eyes are resting resolutely on the back of my own head. Or perhaps it is papa’s eyes that are staring at me. I cannot tell.

What Margaret told me hours before is still ringing in my ears as if my younger sister is still standing before me, criticising me and telling me with tears in her eyes that she longs  more than anything else to carry the burdens I myself have to carry. I can still hear those words as if she is still sobbing before me, but I am at a loss to understand them. ‘What you have looks like heaven to me.’  

I have always  known of Margaret’s jealousy, though I cannot understand what she  sees  in my life that is worth  being so jealous of. If she wants the crown, if she wants to be queen, then were it not for my duties I would tell her that she is welcome to it. I have never wanted to be queen and cannot for the  life of me see why one would. Surely, my sister must see that my own life is not  mine for the living. Margaret must see that I live my entire life for the country, the commonwealth and the people who look to me  as a figurehead. My life consists of royal engagements, meetings with ministers and endless rounds of many and varied tasks. Mine is a life without much  peace.  I see nothing in my life to  envy. Margaret, as the second  born, was never  going to be queen and as a result, she was granted freedom. All she has to do is enjoy it. What she has is envyable to me. I would  have given and would still give anything to have the life of luxury that Margaret has. To live in a country house with my husband and my dear  children would have been my perfect future. But that is not my life. Such freedom was not granted to me as my father’s heir to the throne. I am the queen, and it is for me, and me alone to shoulder the burden.

The fire lies in ashes now, but I call no one in to relight  it. I need to be alone for a few moments longer, lest I linger on in turmoil  into the night. The words Margaret sobbed into the empty silence of  our meeting and my  willingness to listen still hurt terribly. Why would they not? Though she accuses me of criticism, Margaret has spent most of our lives telling me that I am a lesser thing, a woman of no character, a  monarch without the love of the public. And yet I know the truth. It is she who feels the criticisms aimed at her back, and in many ways, I believe she should. Her attempts to rule the country in my  absence did not go well to say the least and some of the results have to fall upon Margaret’s head. I told her  what I  expected of her before I left. She just loved the  public interest too much. That is all. Margaret  told me during our meeting that she hates living in my shadow. I hate to hear such words, for I never intended her to live a life of feeling as if she was the second fiddle in the orchestra. And yet she must  have. How could one feel any different. I am the queen. Margaret, as she told me, has always lived her life in my shadow. I never meant for her to feel like this, but this is something I cannot change.

I cannot deny it, I feel resentful of Margaret’s  jealousy of me, for I feel considerable jealousy on my part.

“I was papa’s favourite.”

These words too are ringing inside my head like the toling of a funeral  bell. Margaret had hit a nerve there, I  must admit. I had been fighting such thoughts whilest on my commonwealth trip with my dearest Philip. He even brought it up on one occasion, an occasion that still makes me angry even  now. Philip and I very rarely faught, but we had faught then. He had told me that I had been trying to see fault with everything my sister did whilest governing the country in my absence. I must confess, that is exactly what I was trying to see. Margaret had spent so much of her time telling me that I was a queen of no character and that she would be able to bring the monarchy of Britain what it so desperately needed. I had hoped that she would have messed things up somehow, had searched for it regularly while reading the papers. Indeed I had found it. I regret to think this, but I had been somewhat gladdened by the fact that Margaret had slipped up. But the commonwealth trip had brought home to me many home truths.

 Philip had told me that I was doing this in order to prove that I was as good a ruler as my father, that I was ‘papa’s favourite’ as Philip had said.

I had snapped then. I had hated to admit it, but that was true. I had desperately desired to    appear as good a queen as  everyone expected me to be, no matter how  exawsting the trip had been. I   don’t think that I had proved that.

“I was Papa’s favourite.”

Margaret had always held such  a fact over me, though I know not whether this is true. I had heard my father say  often that ‘Elizabeth is my pride and Margaret is my joy.’ We had each meant drastically different things to him. I  was  my father’s pride. I had shown myself to be a worthy heir to his throne, but my sister  had brought him more joy than I was capable of bringing him. I had wanted to be my father’s joy too, but I am sure that Margaret had  greatly desired to  have been an object of some pride in   Papa’s life also. I am sure that she was. What father would favour one girl over the other?

 ‘We four.’ That was what  Papa had called our family. He had seen pride and joy in all of us, his daughters and in our mother the old queen Elizabeth. I knew and still know that Papa adored us all, probably in equal measure, but I suppose that the idea of being Papa’s favourite is the only thing Margaret has to cling onto when she sees nothing but darkness ahead of her.

It is getting dark outside. I  must retire now and go and spend some time with my family. I have missed my dear children so much while I have been away and cannot wait to see them once again. I  think that I shall have to place my disagreements with Margaret aside for the moment, though our  problems have not been even almost resolved. I know that Margaret will doubtless be angry at my asking her to write apologies to the people whom she offended while she had been  governing in my place. I know that the idea of yet another  failure on her part will wound her pride even more. ‘next to you I will always be evil.’ That was what she had told me. I have never thought of my   dearest sister as evil, far from it. Margaret is beautiful, spirited and the life and soul of our family. She always has been. I had wanted so much to say that to her before she left, but I had  been unable to gather the courage to say what I was truly feeling. I wish I had said that to her now. I know that Margaret wants nothing more than approval from her sister and from the people. Why else would she behave the way she does? I cannot fathom it, but then I had been raised for duty and she had not been.

I know that I will have to make it up to her. I may be the queen, but I am also a sister, a loving and devoted sister. I know that I may not be  as good at displaying emotions as openly as she. But I know that I will have to. I think Margaret needs to know how much I love her as a sister and as a royal princess. I know that the conflict within our family concerning herself and Peter has been very much evident of late but I cannot allow this to come between us. We are sisters. I believe that if he was here with us this day, Papa would have asked the two of us to be friends. He would hate to see our family fractured like this. I know he would. As head of the family, I know that it is my job to try and piece it back together. And I will. I will do this both as a  queen, and as a sister, daughter and friend.  


End file.
